Substitute
by Mummyluvr
Summary: Dean knew that she was a poor substitute for the being of love that he truly desired. He also knew that he could never be a proper substitute for the same creature when it came to him with an impossible offer of redemption and amnesia. Dean/Castiel.


**Title:** Substitute

**Summary:** Dean knew that she was a poor substitute for the being of love that he truly desired. He also knew that he could never be a proper substitute for the same creature when it came to him with an impossible offer of redemption and amnesia. Dean/Castiel.

**Rating:** PG

**Spoilers:** through 4.10

**Disclaimer:** I own neither characters nor the idea of Grace in a Bottle (TM Kripke & Ko.) *rolls eyes*

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Substitute

Nothing. It all meant nothing.

The long, seemingly dead stares. The warm spots on cold motel sheets. The comforting hand on his shoulder at the site of his family's murder. The jealous gaze as he locked lips with a poor substitute. It meant nothing. He should have known.

The literature said that they were creatures of light and love, beings that floated around on fluffy clouds and played harps and had big white feathers. Dean knew them as possessors of tax accountants, with time-warping abilities and shadowy wings and a penchant for murder. He had heard their threats.

And now he knew that they felt no emotion, had no heart. There was no love.

He'd been disappointed for a bit, a brief second, before throwing himself back into the job. He wasn't even sure why. Maybe he'd been expecting something. Like, God was going to break him out of Hell and give him an angel as a special reward. _Good job on the torture, there, Dean. Keep it up._ Actually, as he learned more, that was seeming more and more likely.

Mostly, though, he supposed he'd just gotten his hopes up. He'd fallen in love with the idea of creatures made of love, beings that had to love everything without condition. Something that could see past what he had done, something that could see _him_.

But the more he learned, the more his dreams were dashed. The more likely it seemed that he was still Daddy's blunt little instrument. And just like before, when Daddy was done, he was going to get tossed away without a second thought. Right back into the fire that had forged him.

Anna proved interesting. An angel with a heart, with love and emotion and feelings. He was more than a blunt instrument to her. He was Dean. _The _Dean. Maybe if he saved her, she would do the same for him. She would remember, at least.

She was still only human, though. She was still only capable of understanding so much, of loving so much, of giving so much to him. She wasn't the being that he had fixed his sights on originally, and he knew it. Seemed Uriel knew it, too.

He was taunted and teased and he allowed it. He had expected something that he didn't deserve, had accepted a weak substitution, and was playing the forces of Heaven and Hell against each other.

As far as Dean was concerned, he didn't deserve any of this, what he was starting to think of as a brief reprieve. If he had a choice- if he were to let his conscience choose, anyway- he'd go back to Hell. It was where he belonged, anyway. For having impure thoughts about angels, for thinking himself worthy of their love, of anything. He deserved it.

So it came as a surprise when he responded to the knock on the motel room door two months after the Anna fiasco and found Castiel staring at him with those pained blue eyes.

"Cas?"

"Dean." The angel pitched forward, falling into instinctively outstretched arms.

Dean pulled him into the room, shutting the door with his own foot. He laid Castiel out on the bed and sat beside him, resisting the urge to touch, to fix, to make better. Years of big brother experience fought for control while common sense argued that the creature could take care of itself, even though the angel seemed incapacitated at the moment.

Blue eyes opened, searched his face. "Dean?"

"What happened?"

A sigh. "It hurt. I knew it would, but.."

"What hurt? What… was there another battle? Demons? A seal?"

Castiel shook his head. "I Fell."

Dean blinked, convinced that he'd heard wrong. "What?"

"I Fell. I was tired of… a lot of things. And I was weak. Useless to them. But you… you're strong."

"What are you talking about?"

The angel pushed himself up into a sitting position. "I've watched you for a long time, Dean. Watched you live and grow. Watched you sleep." He blushed. "In the car."

It took Dean a moment to realize what he meant. "Me and Anna? You watched us?"

"I was… curious."

"You sly dog."

"I was jealous."

"Oh."

"I was… unsatisfied with what I had. I wanted more. I wanted you."

That was a punch in the gut, another unexpected thing that night. The possibility that the things he'd imagined and wanted could be his. "What, exactly, does that mean?"

"I Fell for you. To be with you."

He couldn't help but smile. "Really?"

"Yes. But then I realized something."

Dean's smile faltered. "What?"

"It's not what you want."

"I never said-"

Castiel held up a hand to silence him. "I was listening when you were talking to Sam and Anna. I heard you tell them that you remember what you did in Hell, that you don't feel worthy, that you want to forget. I can't take the memories away. But I can help take away the pain. The regret. Everything else."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I Fell two months ago, Dean. I've spent that time searching for something for you, something to prove that we're not all… heartless sons of bitches."

"What?"

Cas reached beneath his shirt- his vessel's shirt, and Dean was hit with the sudden realization that the former angel was still inside the poor man somehow- and pulled out a small vial. Something shimmered inside the clear glass container, bright blue mixed with the slightest hints of purple and silver.

"Is that…?"

He slipped the chain from around his neck and held the vial out for the hunter to take. "For you. I found it for you."

Dean shook his head. "I don't understand.

"I was confused, doubting, starting to feel when I shouldn't have been able to. I fell in love with you without meaning to. I decided that if I was going to Fall, I would at least make something good come of it. I want to give you what you want. I want to give you a release."

"Can you do that?"

"There is nothing that says I can't."

"You can make me an angel?"

Castiel nodded, a small smile forming on his tired face. "Yes."

"But then I wouldn't feel anything."

"That's the point, isn't it? You're tired of feeling. You're crushed by your guilt."

"Yeah, but, then you'd be here all alone and I wouldn't even be grateful."

"I don't need your thanks, Dean. I'm doing this because I love you."

"And if you do this, I'll never be able to love you back," the hunter pointed out, eyes fixed on the vial and chain in the former angel's hand.

"That's what love is. Letting people go. I thought you, of all people, would know that."

Dean stared at him, unsure of what to do. Humanity was bad, sure. There was pain and hunger and death and despair, but at least he had free will, a choice, a mind of his own. He had feelings, emotions, love.

He reached out, wrapped tentative fingers around his savior's Grace, and watched as the angel let go of the last thing holding him to Heaven. Dean leaned forward, closing the space between them, dropping his hand into his lap, letting the vial fall softly onto the comforter.

He reached out again, with both hands this time, and cupped the angel's face. "No offence, Cas, but I kind of like it here."

"I do, too."

In that moment, they both realized that they were close enough to kiss, so they did. It was awkward, slow, hesitant at first. The making of a pact, the sealing of a deal. Dean realized suddenly what it meant, what he was being offered. It was a trade.

He'd thought, the first week of the war, that it wasn't fair. Every person that went to Hell eventually became a demon. The angels that had Fallen, as far as he had known back then, were doomed to the same fate. The angels in Heaven were finite in number- couldn't be added to, only subtracted from. It wasn't fair.

He wasn't being added, he was being substituted. He was part of a cosmic math equation. Part of something eternal and unfeeling and expertly trained. Something that was loyal to a fault.

The mouth on his opened and he slipped in, tasting something _human_, something that he'd once imaged would taste of clear rivers and cool winters and salvation. He tasted like chicken. Bad chicken. Day-old KFC that was missing ten of the secret eleven herbs and spices.

Dean slid one hand around to the back of the other man's head, lightly fisted it in wild hair, pulled him closer. He'd known he was selfish, not meant for angels. Nothing pure and good and light could love him. But this was just as good, maybe even better. He'd tempted an angel, made it Fall for him. If that wasn't devotion, wasn't loyalty, wasn't love, he didn't know what was.

He wasn't worthy of an angel, wasn't worthy of that type of devotion, but that didn't mean he couldn't give it back. That didn't mean he couldn't give up one more selfish desire for someone that he loved.

Castiel was the first to pull back, to break the kiss, to come back to himself. "Dean, wait. We can't."

"Why not?" His hand slipped from the back of the former angel's head. "Thought you broke rank."

"I did. But you-"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"Let you in on a little secret. Anna wasn't exactly my first choice. She was-"

"A substitute?" the former angel interrupted.

"You knew?"

"I know everything about you. I told you I've been watching. And I want you to be happy." He reached between the hunter's legs, grinning as Dean tensed in anticipation, and pulled the vial from where it had fallen. "Take it."

"I'm not-"

"You're worthy."

"-Going to leave you here alone."

Castiel blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I've made up my mind. I'm not gonna be a mindless soldier anymore. I'm tired of it. And I'm not gonna leave you here alone and defenseless."

"But it's what you want."

"Not the only thing I want," Dean reminded him, taking the vial from his hand and reaching behind him to set it on the bedside table. "And you knew that, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. You wouldn't have done this. You said you were in my head, right? So you knew what I was thinking. You knew what I wanted."

"You didn't want _me_, Dean. You wanted an abstract concept. One that I no longer represent."

"But you still fell in love with me." He frowned, realization dawning on him. "I still slept with Anna."

"Yes, but-"

"I didn't know she would go back."

"You-"

"You tricky bastard."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "What?"

"Just admit it. You knew this would happen. You knew I'd stay here, that I wouldn't take your offer. You counted on it."

The angel hung his head, dropping his eyes. "I didn't mean to anger you. I just wanted to offer a chance at reprieve. I don't want you to be miserable."

Dean softened. "I'm not mad, Cas. That was pretty sneaky, actually. I'm proud. You'll fit right in. But, uh," he glanced back at the glass necklace on the bedside table. "What are we gonna do about the sparkly vial of angel mojo?"

Castiel smiled. "Oh, I have an idea."

-.-

Sam walked through the door and was instantly thankful for his father's training. He reached out and caught the small glass vial Dean threw at him without even registering the movement of his hands.

He held up the necklace and looked at the sparkling liquid swirling within it. "What's this?" he asked, turning to face his brother, who was sitting on one of the beds.

Dean smiled as the bathroom door opened and Castiel appeared, wiping his hands on a grimy motel towel. "Your get-out-of-Hell-free card," the angel grinned. "You're welcome."

* * *

Well, I guess that means I'm finally over my writer's block. Yay! And I have a Thanksgiving-themed fic all ready to go tomorrow or the next day. And it's not even that slashy! Yay!

Thanks for reading.


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